


Nights Like These

by Viper_Flower



Category: Hermitcraft RPF, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fire, Inspired by Music, It wasn't intentional crime, M/M, Personas Only!, Punk/Pastel (kinda), Should I put the "crime" tag on here?, Smoking, shipping irl people is not cool, srsly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27543301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viper_Flower/pseuds/Viper_Flower
Summary: Impulse and Skizzleman had gone through this before, accidentally breaking something and dashing off before they could get caught. Burning down a building is new though.
Relationships: ImpulseSV/Skizzleman
Kudos: 16





	Nights Like These

**Author's Note:**

> Skizz needs love, and this is how I give it to my characters  
> Also, kinda punk/pastel au? Didn't know how to describe it, I just wrote

Impulse sighed, pulling the heavy curtains back from the kitchen window. The sky was finally clearing after a thunderstorm, and the full moon was just low enough to see from inside. Allowing the curtain to fall back, he took another drag from the half-burnt cigarette between his fingers. The unexpected sound of something falling startled Impulse, and he curled his hand into a fist, hissing when he accidentally pressed the cigarette into his palm.

Flicking the now-garbage to the floor, he saw a blister start to form on his hand, almost heart-shaped. Looking around, he tried to find what had made the noise. Down the hall, beside his broken-down bike, something had fallen off of his boyfriend’s bookshelf.

Impulse walked over, picking up the object, and his eyes widened. It was a figurine his boyfriend had made in an art class back in high school, a ring made of clay daisies. One of the flowers had come off from the fall, and he stared at it for a moment.

“Dippledop!” Impulse yelped, hitting the bike so it fell beside him. Skizzleman, his loving boyfriend, rushed over, dropping his bike in favor of taking Impulse’s face in his hands. “You okay, honey?”

“Yeah, I- yeah. I’m fine. But your clay flowers fell…” Skizz quickly and gently kissed away the tear Impulse let slip from his eye.

“It’s fine, love, I can fix it tomorrow.…Have you been smoking?” Skizz wrinkled his nose at the scent that clung to his boyfriend’s clothes and hung in the air.

“Uh, yeah… sorry, I know you don’t like it, but I had the window open, and-” Impulse turned to look at the kitchen window when he froze. “Fire.”

Both men looked at the kitchen, where the curtain had gone up in flames. The fire overtook the entire kitchen, and thanks to the crappy apartment having no extinguishers, there was nothing they could do to put it out. 

Skizz grabbed Impulse’s arm, yanking him up to his feet. They grabbed their bikes, Impulse also taking the clay flowers and his backpack, and ran towards the back exit. Impulse flung open the door to the fire escape, tossed his bike onto the over-full dumpster behind their building to soften its fall, and raced down the iron stairs. Skizz hesitated just long enough to pull the fire alarm before following Impulse.

Pulling their bikes off the pile of garbage bags, Impulse checked that he still had his belongings before hopping on the seat. Skizz picked up the emergency pack he always kept by the dumpster and dropped it in the basket on his bike.

They’d gone through this before, accidentally breaking something and dashing off before they could get caught. Hell, it was how they met; Impulse had smashed the window of their high school, and Skizz, out of the goodness in his heart, helped get him to safety. They were an odd pair, the anxious punk innovator beside his pastel boyfriend with ADD, but they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Riding to the park, where they’d planted their extra supplies when they first moved to this town, they laughed and they cried. They’d finally had a chance, a possibility of a calm life in a new town, but they always fucked it up.

Gazing over at Skizzleman, whose baby-blue eyes were full of tears as he cackled, whose white sweater and red overalls were dusty and ripped, whose fingers were stained by his favorite strawberries, whose smile was the only thing that made Impulse feel something; gazing at him, Impulse couldn’t help but laugh along. He loved and hated nights like these.


End file.
